


From The Dining Table

by lyznotliz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Children, Fluff, Frottage, Implied Character Death, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Smut, Smut tags are as follows:, That's it, The smallest amount of, Vignettes, but in one go, kind of, no chapters, oh!, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyznotliz/pseuds/lyznotliz
Summary: A series of generally canon-compliant vignettes set at the Tomlinson/Styles household dining table (or lack thereof). Inspired by Louis' recent Observer photo where he is sitting at a table with an egg on toast in front of him."Thank you Styles for making me egg on toast everyday. --Boo, London"





	From The Dining Table

**Author's Note:**

> There are some references to PR relationships in this fic. None of them are named, but you can guess who they are and what events they're in reference to based on the timeline of the fic. The story start after H&L have moved in together for the first time and ends sometime in the semi-distant future. 
> 
> Special thanks to Harry Styles for writing "From The Dining Table" and to Kacey Musgraves for writing "Fine". They were a lovely soundtrack to my writing. 
> 
> There are some fictional liberties taken in this story. Don't come for me, please.

**I.**

Coldness. That was the first thing Louis’ brain registered in its half consciousness. He tugged the comforter tighter to his body, trapping whatever body heat he could. The second thing Louis’ brain registers is a delightful smell emanating from outside the door. His stomach gurgles and urges him out of slumber and towards whatever butter-scented heaven awaits him. Louis stands and starts downstairs, comforter draped as a cape around his bare shoulders. 

He finds Harry there in the kitchen, idly scratching his stomach as he stares intently at the frying pan in front of him. Louis takes a moment to admire the view before shuffling forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Harry’s shoulder, cold nose making him shiver upon contact. 

“Morning, Lou. It's almost done. Go ahead and take a seat, I'll bring you a plate.” Harry says.

Louis hums in agreement and promptly sidesteps to the kettle first. Priorities and such. While the water sets to boil, Louis hops up onto the counter and thinks about how he ended up here. He’s got a gorgeous flat in London, a multimillion dollar recording contract, a family that supports him endlessly, and a love who makes him breakfast everyday. The kettle signals its readiness and Louis shakes from his reverie. 

He jumps down and grabs two mugs, turning to the fridge to grab milk, and pulling the sugar canister forward from the countertop. Two tea bags find their way into the mugs along with a splash of milk for himself and two sugars for Harry. He'll break him of that terrible habit one of these days. 

Louis carefully brings the tea over, placing Harry's mug in front of him first before taking his seat across the dining table. Louis looks down to find a perfectly fried egg on a slice of toast and the entertainment section of the newspaper waiting for him to devour. He looks up and finds eyes already on him.

“Thanks, love. Looks wonderful, as always. Shall we dig in?” He gestures to Harry's plate. Harry smiles at him softly before getting up from his seat and leaning across the table, gently cupping Louis’ jaw in his hand and pressing a single warm kiss to his lips before sitting back in his chair. 

“What's that for?” Louis asks. 

“Nothing. Everything. Just, because you're you. Thanks for that, you know, being you. I kind of love it.” Harry responds. Louis’ cheeks warm and he feels himself unable to fully suppress the grin that threatens to crack across his face. He looks down at his food, bashful, and picks up his tea. He takes a sip as the moment passes and together, they go about their meal. Harry reads the news from the front page, cluing Louis into pieces he hadn't yet digested from his brief morning scroll through Twitter. Louis reads the big entertainment stories, sharing the hottest gossip with Harry. Harry will act like he's above it sometimes, but Louis knows better. 

They laugh. They eat. They touch each other in the smallest ways, ankles hooking under the table, gentle caresses of fingertips on forearms, a hip bump at the sink. Harry cooks, Louis washes up. It's their regular morning routine. When Louis finishes, he hears Harry in the shower and takes a moment to do something a bit silly maybe. Silly, but romantic. Something very him and Harry. He clicked to their regular morning paper’s website, navigating himself to the Good Deeds section, and clicked on the submission button. 

“Thank you Styles for making me egg on toast everyday. --Boo, London.”

**II.**

Everything is chaos. Nobody knows whose things are whose anymore. They don't seem to see enough daylight but they don't sleep either. Any hope of privacy vanished within moments of stepping foot onto their bus--their mobile home for the next year or so. 

Louis gets chaos. He grew up with it. A hoard of younger siblings always kept him on his toes. He was the cause of a lot of it himself as well. Louis can thrive on chaos. Louis also knows that some people can't. That's how he finds himself taking a rare quiet moment away to meet with their traveling chef, Sarah, to discuss dining tables. 

“Alright Louis. What's this grand idea of yours now?” She asks

“I think we need a dinner table. Like a real one, you know? Somewhere we can all eat at together and have one normal meal each day. It's just...there's a lot of...energy...backstage,” Sarah raises her eyebrow at that, “and I think it'd be good for us, all of us, to have one place to come together and settle. What do you think? Can we do that?”

Sarah thinks for a moment. “Your heart is in a good place, Louis, but I don't think we can haul any more big equipment like that. You boys’ stage is quite a setup if you hadn't noticed.” Louis moves to interject but Sarah cuts him off. “But, what if we request a few long folding tables on the riders at each venue and we do something else to create that sort of constant you're looking for?”

So that's how they end up with their formal travel dining room setup. Two long folding tables with enough chairs for at least twenty people, two vases with faux blossoms, and a blue polka dotted table cloth. The lot of them sit to eat dinner together before each show. There's still chaos, but there's also calm within each storm. 

One day, after a particularly rousing round of bothering Sarah for cooking lessons turned into tea and bonding, Harry learns just how their formal tour family dinners came to be. It's been an exhausting week. Shows every night for six nights. Interviews to promote their movie during the day. Sleep has been a rare commodity. Harry stumbles onto the bus at half past three in the morning and finds a quietly snoring Louis asleep in their bunk. He's beautiful like this, and Harry almost feels bad about waking him. 

“Loubear. Hey. Wake up baby. I have something I need to show you.”

“Wassit, Hazza?” Louis groggily replies, rubbing the back of his hand to his eye. 

“You have to get up, Lou. Got something you need to see.”

“Can't it wait till morning, H, I'm fucking exhausted mate.”

“I promise it's worth it. Please. I'll blow you twice before the show tomorrow so you can hear how much you affect me when I sing. Know how much you love that. Cmon baby. Get up.”

Louis groans and reluctantly sits up. “We’re not ruining your voice darling, but I may have a counter offer once I can think about more than how fucking not asleep I am right now. Alright then. Lead the way, Prince Charming.”

Harry grabs Louis’ hand and guides him off the bus. There's a security officer waiting at the door to the venue they just played who nods at Harry when they arrive and let's him back into the building. 

“Hazza? Why are we back at the arena?”

“Shh Lou it's a surprise. Patience, please.”

They come to a stop outside of one of the backstage rooms. Harry drops Louis’ hand in favor of cupping his fingers over his eyes. 

“Ok we're almost there. Just a couple more steps. Ok stop. Keep your eyes closed, Louis.” Harry removes his fingers and steps aside, turning to face Louis. “Ok, open!”

Louis opens his eyes to see...breakfast?

“Harry, did you…”

“Yeah, Lou. We don't get a lot of time to do our things and I miss them. I miss having you to myself. I love our boys, I love our misfit little tour family, but nothing compares to how I love you and I miss us having our time. I just...I don't know, I just wanted to try to do something for you since I know how you went to Sarah to figure out,” he waves around the dining room, “all this. For me. Because you know I get anxious in all the craziness and I just want everyone to be a family and together and…” Harry is cut short by Louis wrapping him in a tight embrace. He wraps his arms around his boy and leaves a kiss on the top of his head. 

“I love you, H. Thank you for this. I'm sorry for being short before, I'm just so tired you know? I had no idea you were thinking of this, that I needed this with you, too. So, thank you. Really.” 

With that, they sit. Louis sips his tea. Harry eats his eggs. They giggle at each other from across the table. It's nearly four in the morning, and Harry can't think of a time in his life he's loved this hour of the day more. 

**III.**

Louis wakes feeling a familiar tingle in his stomach, in his toes. 

“Mmmm oh fuck, Harry, baby, that's so good, c’mere.”

Harry pops up from where he'd been suckling at Louis’ cock, lips shiny and bright pink, green eyes glistening with mirth, ever-growing hair tied back in a little knot at the back of his head, and pecks Louis on the mouth. 

“Good morning, boo.”

“Very good morning indeed. Christ, Hazza.” Louis kisses him again, more firmly this time, guiding Harry to rest on top of him. They move together in their oversized hotel bed--sheets still sleep warm and rumpled--until they've both come. They lie there together, satiated and sticky, fingers intertwined. “Could write a song about that mouth, H. Jesus,” Louis says then. “What brought this on?”

“Can't control myself around you sometimes is all. You looked so beautiful this morning. And you smelled so good. Couldn't resist,” Harry says before he stands from the bed. “Gonna order us some room service then wash up. Eggs and tea?”

“Yeah, babe, sounds great. I'll meet you in there in a few. Just, give me a minute.” Louis gets up and digs through his bag. He finds his MacBook and powers it on. He goes to his most recent songwriting folder and chuckles a bit as he adds, “Morning blowjobs, love, couldn't resist...Can't Control Myself?” to his inspiration document. He'll come back to that later. Maybe he’ll bounce ideas for this epic blowie song off Payno if he needs to get a good prank in for the day. 

Breakfast arrives. They sit at their little roll-in table and share the paper. Harry dumps two packets of sugar into his tea and Louis scrunches his nose. Louis eats his eggs and Harry steals a piece of his bacon. 

There isn't any washing up to be done, but Louis still clears the room and pushes their table to the hallway to be picked up by the hotel staff later while Harry goes to get dressed for the day. 

They enjoy the silence together before heading out towards the hecticness of their daily tour schedule. Harry pecks Louis once on the mouth before leaving their room. Louis waits. He hates this part. The waiting. The being without his boy. He loses track of time, head swimming with thoughts of hypothetical universes where things aren't so hard and people are allowed to love whoever they love regardless of their job title or gender or whatever. A knock at the door signals him back to reality. Louis sighs and stands from the bed he was sitting on. He puts on as happy a face as he can muster as he opens the door to the wrong head of brown curls. 

“Ready?” She says, chomping on gum and not bothering to look up from her phone. 

“Yeah let's just go.”

**IV.**

It's noon, Harry realizes. His head is pounding. He hasn't seen Louis in a few days now. He feels off kilter. The bed is colder than it's supposed to be. He hasn't made breakfast in a week.

Harry stretches, cracking his back. He goes to his dresser and grabs a tshirt and some shorts. He scratches his stomach as he makes his way towards their front door. His good running shoes are still strewn haphazardly in the hallway and he picks them up on his way. He makes sure to double knot them before grabbing his keys and headphones and leaving the house. 

He just needs to go for a run. That'll clear his head. 

Harry throws his hair up into a messy bun and takes off. He runs. And runs. And runs. He thinks his lungs might actually be catching on fire in his chest, but at least he's feeling something, right? 

He runs his way home and makes a phone call. Plans. Those are good things to have. He's getting lunch with a friend. Everything is fine. It's fine. 

Harry gets about halfway to his lunch destination when he feels it. His stomach lurches and he sees spots.

“Pull over. Now.” He states. The car pulls off the freeway just in time for Harry to throw the door open and empty the contents of his stomach onto the gravel shoulder. He heaves and spits, wiping his mouth with his shirt, and when he looks up, he sees it. A fucking pap camera getting an Ultra HD shot of him fucking falling apart. Great. Harry rolls his eyes and kicks the dirt and wants to fucking scream scream scream scream. But he doesn't. He gets into the car and asks to kindly be dropped back at his house. He's not feeling well. 

So he goes home. And he sleeps. And sleeps. And the front door clicks open and shut. And feet patter to their bedroom. And the bed dips beside him. And Harry stirs. 

“Louis?”

“Hi baby. You ok sweetheart? You don't look too well,” Louis says, brushing stray hairs from Harry’s forehead. 

“Missed you. Forget how to be without you sometimes is all.” Harry mumbles in his half awake state. Louis furrows his brow. He peels off his jeans and climbs into bed beside Harry, tucking him into his arms. 

“I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry for leaving you without much warning. They kept extending my time with those people, H, it was awful. And I think they're gonna keep her.” Louis takes a shuddering breath at that. “Hazza please know that I love you with everything in me and I'm so sorry for hurting you,” he whispers to Harry’s back. “I don't know if I can do this, H. We’re strong enough though, right? Together we can get through it. I love you so much.” And then he breaks. Louis silently sobs, trying not to disturb his sleeping boy. 

The next day, Harry wakes before the sun. Louis is there, curled around him in sleep. Breaths puffing evenly next to Harry’s ear. Harry brings his hand to his mouth and kisses him gently before rising from bed. He makes his way to the kitchen to set about his morning. He gets out his favorite old frying pan and puts the kettle on to boil. 

Louis wakes up just as the sun is crossing the horizon. Harry isn't next to him, but he can hear footsteps down the hall. He makes his way to the kitchen and finds Harry at the table, paper in one hand, tea in the other. A plate of eggs and bacon sit at Louis’ seat, along with a mug of tea with just a splash of milk. Louis has to actively stop himself from bursting into tears. He makes his way around the table and hugs Harry. Harry turns in the embrace and whispers in Louis’ ear, “We’re strong enough. Baby, we can be enough.”

**V.**

Louis didn't come home last night. Harry knew he would be out late. He had a commitment to attend this wedding and be seen with this girl again. Harry didn't necessarily expect him to come home before he fell asleep, but it's always a bit unusual to start the day without him near. 

It's nearing 8:00 am and Harry puts the kettle on. He doesn't have much of an appetite. Something feels...off, wrong. Just...like the universe shifted everything a few centimeters to the right and he can find the spot where he usually fits. That's when he hears it.

Harry’s phone buzzes off his bedside table and thumps to the floor. He hasn't checked it since he fell asleep. Wonders who could possibly be calling before 10:00 on a Saturday morning. The buzzing stops before he can pick up, but starts again immediately after. It's either something incredibly important or someone shared his number online again and he's just going to have to block the numbers until he can get a new one. He picks up the phone as it buzzes. It's Louis. He answers. 

“Hey, love, where are you?”

“Harry. Um hey. I'm...I'm sorry I didn't come home last night. But um...I tried calling. A lot actually,” he chuckles and it's tinny and breathy across the line, “you sleep like the dead Hazza. Probably couldn't hear over your snoring…”

“Heyyyyyy,” Harry drawls. 

“Oh shush you, you know it's true. Anyway, babe that's not what this is about. So um, last night. I got a call from home and Harry,” Louis pauses and then line goes quiet. Harry waits for his response. Louis takes a deep breath and continues, quietly, “H, mum’s sick. Like, really, really sick. And I didn't know what to do. I panicked and flew home. I didn't even bring anything, H, just had my passport and these wedding clothes. I stopped off at ours and packed and took the car up. I had to see them, Harry, I didn't know what else to do. What do I do? What do we do Harry?” And then he cries. Like it's sinking in for the first time in 24 hours. And Harry is thousands of miles and an ocean away.

“Oh, Lou. No baby don't worry it's ok. We’ll figure it out. I've got a cast meeting today in about an hour, but then I'm coming out there, ok? I'll fly into London, you bring Lottie with you and come get me tonight. I'll text you the details. And Louis?” He pauses. “I love you. We’re going to figure this out. We’ll get through it, ok? Give the girls kisses from me and tell them I'll see everyone soon. I love you, Lou, I gotta go get things ready. Love you, see you.” And then he hangs up. He feels...numb. But he moves. 

Harry moves on autopilot to their dresser and grabs a few things for himself and a few things for Louis. He picks up their good shampoo and packs that. He grabs his and Louis’ travel toiletry bags from under the sink for good measure and stuffs them in his suitcase as well. 

He calls his assistant to help him book a flight out as soon as possible. He relays that his meeting should be over before noon. He texts Louis and Lottie both his flight information. And then he breathes. He goes back to their kitchen table, tea gone cold, and sits. And breathes. He puts his head in his hands and breathes. Harry steadied himself, takes a swig of the leftover tea, grimaces at its temperature, and stands up. 

He gets dressed in silence. He goes to his meeting. He gets into the hired car. He gets on the plane. And then it's quiet. He has about nine hours before he can see Louis, see his family, and he thinks if he doesn't  _ do _ something, he's going to go crazy. So he digs out his journal. And he writes. 

He writes and writes and writes until his head is quieted. And then he sleeps. 

An attendant calls his name again, gently. 

“Mr. Styles? We’ve landed. Would you like some help gathering your things before you deboard?” She says.

“No, thank you, I've got it from here. Thank you for waking me.” Harry groggily shifts in his seat, giving one last yawn before shuffling out to grab his bag.

“Anytime, sir. Have a lovely trip.”

He's quietly moved through a secure entrance and exit and then Harry finds their car in their regular pickup spot. He taps the trunk twice and Louis pops the latch. Harry throws their bags into the back and closes the door. He makes his way around front and gets into the passenger seat. 

“Hey, H.” Louis’ voice is scratchy. He’s probably not stopped smoking since he landed last night. Harry doesn't reply, just tangles their fingers together and squeezes. 

“How was the flight, Harry?” Lottie asks from the back. They make small talk for most of the drive back. Harry catches up on her life outside of their tour schedule. She tells him about this boy she's seeing. They talk about how big the twins have gotten, both sets of them. 

They pull into the drive around midnight. Lottie helps Harry unload the bags. They follow Louis into the house. It's one of the rare and blissfully quiet hours when everyone is asleep and the only sounds come from the ticking of the clock in the main family room. Louis grabs their bags and hauls them off to their regular room. Harry kisses his cheek before he goes. 

“So, how are you, really?” Harry asks Lottie once Louis has cleared the room. She gets smaller, seems younger then. 

“I'm ok, Hazza, really. I'm holding up for now. We don't know too much yet, mum hasn't told us. Has Louis told you? Do you know what's going on?”

“I know mum’s sick. He hasn't really told me anything else.” He shrugs. “I'll wait to hear from him, when he's ready. I think for now, let's just get some rest and we can all chat in the morning, yeah?”

Lottie nods and shuffles forward, wrapping Harry in a warm hug. He squeezes her back, kisses her head, and waves her onto her room. Harry heads to his and Louis’ room then, and finds his boy in bed. He's wearing one of Harry's old shirts and nothing else. Harry undresses and crawls into bed next to him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asks. Louis turns over and curls into Harry’s chest.

“No. Not particularly. Just...can you just hold me? I just need you here with me. I just want to sleep.” Louis responds. Harry pulls him in closer and shuts his eyes. They'll talk about it in the morning. 

They don't talk about it in the morning. Harry wakes up first. He untangles himself from his sleeping love and makes his way to the kitchen. He sets the kettle to boil, and opens the fridge doors. He grabs a carton of eggs and the milk and slices off some bread to toast. He fries off the eggs and puts two tea bags in the hot mugs to steep. The eggs come off the hob, the tea bags come out of the mugs. Two sugars, a splash of milk. Two plates, two mugs. Two feet pad back to the bedroom. Louis is still asleep, sunlight casting shadows under his eyes and on his cheeks. 

“Lou, baby. Wake up. You need to eat.” Harry gently pulls Louis out of his slumber. He sits up then, and takes the proffered plate and mug. They don't talk about it. They just eat in silence. Eventually they finish and Louis moves to grab the dishes, but Harry stops him. 

“I've got them today,” he says. He takes the plates to the kitchen and washes up. He goes back to the bedroom to find Louis asleep again in their bed, snuffling softly, face pressed into Harry’s pillow. They'll try again tomorrow. 

**VI.**

They're living in a rare period of time where neither have solid work commitments and neither are required to travel. The days pass easily. They fall into a routine together. 

Louis stands next to the hob while Harry cooks. “Hey Hazza, would you be a dear and go grab my phone from the bedroom? I forgot I'm expecting a call today and don't want to miss it.”

“Lou, you know the flame’s on right?” Harry chuckles. 

“Yeah babe I think I can handle watching some eggs for ten seconds thank you. Now go, I'll even turn the flame down to low so they don't catch on the edges.”

“Well well well! Has somebody been watching Gordon Ramsey videos in his free time? Proper kitchen genius are you now?” Harry teases him, poking Louis in the sides as he goes. “I'll grab it. But you owe me, Tomlinson.”

“Yeah yeah sure ok. Thanks, love.” Louis calls after him. He watches Harry leave the room and quickly reaches into the pocket of his joggers. He grabs the cylindrical silver band and promptly, gently, places it into Harry's mug. He covers it with a tea bag and boiling water, the brown liquid soon drowning out any sign of the ring. Harry comes back, none the wiser, and chucks Louis’ phone on the counter. 

“Love you forever, thanks baby.” Louis raises onto his toes and smacks a kiss to Harry’s lips. Harry dares to blush at that, even after six years together, and goes back to his task at the stove. Louis finishes with the tea and brings their cups to the table. Harry brings their plates soon after. They sit together, as usual, sharing their paper and silence. Louis’ leg shakes under the table. He forgets to touch his food. 

“Everything alright, Lou? You not hungry?” Harry asks. 

“Oh no, I'm good. Just engrossed in this story here. Sorry bout that, seems I've let your food go a bit cold haven't I?” he gives a nervous little laugh. “Sure it'll be just fine, H. I'll dig in now.” Harry watches him bemusedly. He's being strange this morning. Just...twitchier than usual. Harry takes another sip from his tea. 

They continue on like that for the duration of breakfast. Louis almost doesn't notice when Harry gets up to take his dishes to the sink.

“WAIT!!” He shouts suddenly. “Aren't you going to finish your tea?” 

Harry chuckles. “When did you become such a conservationist? Afraid of me wasting a few mouthfuls of tea, are you? It's fine, Lou.” And he proceeds to dump the dregs into the sink. There's a metallic pinging sound that catches Harry’s attention then, and when he looks down, he sees it. A modest, silver band with small stones embedded into its circumference. Harry just stares for a second, then he picks it up and promptly turns around to see Louis, still at the dining table, with his head in his hands. “Louis...is this…?”

“Yeah, H. It is.” Louis says then, lifting his head and looking Harry straight in the eyes. He gets up from his seat at the table and maneuvers around the kitchen to Harry. He takes the ring from Harry’s frozen fingers and drops down to one knee. 

“Harold Edward Styles,” he begins, eliciting a laugh out of Harry, “you are a thing of the stars. It's the only explanation I can find for how you got to be so goddamn beautiful. And I am hardly worthy of loving someone as beautiful as you, but somehow, the universe thought otherwise. And here we are. We've built this life together, Harry, and I want to continue building it. I know I'm hardly perfect, but H, neither are you. Together though...together, baby, we’re enough, I think you said to me once. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And then some if the universe will let me.” He stops then and breathes. 

Harry has been crying since Louis called him beautiful. Silent wet tracks flow down his cheeks. He reaches down then and pulls Louis to his feet. 

“Lewis William Tomlinson, I will take as long as the universe will give us,” He replies, cupping Louis’ face in his hands and kissing him hard on the mouth. They kiss for a moment longer, not wanting to leave this warm space they've created. Louis takes Harry’s left hand then as they break away and slides the ring onto this finger. It glints in the sunlight. 

“I can't believe you stuck that in my tea, Louis Tomlinson. What if I'd choked!” Harry laughs as he playfully knocks Louis in the shoulder. Louis shrugs and laughs with him. Harry takes his hand then and pulls him close. He whispers in his ear, “Bet we could find something else shiny in our favorite box that I can wear to match with this pretty ring, don't you think?” He tugs on Louis’ earlobe with his teeth and with that he saunters away, leaving Louis rooted to his spot in the kitchen, trying to catch his breath. 

“You’re such a terror, Harry Styles! Give me that ring, I take it back!” Louis says as he follows after his boy. He hears Harry's crow of a laugh from their bedroom and thinks there is nowhere in the world and nowhen in all of time he'd rather be.

**VII.**

It's pitch black outside when he wakes. Louis tugs on some joggers piled on the floor at the side of the bed and makes his way down the hallway. He cracks the door the the small room next door and quietly shuffles inside. 

“Hey there, little one,” he coos at his daughter, who’s wide awake and whining. He picks her up and brings her out of her crib, carrying her to the kitchen. He opens the fridge and grabs a bottle Harry had made earlier for this very occasion. He chucks it on the warmer and waits for it to ding. While he waits, Louis gently bounces his girl in his arms and rubs her back in soothing circles. He hums an old lullaby to help keep her calm while they wait for her first breakfast of the day to be ready. 

Once Louis has tested the warmth of the milky liquid, he brings the bottle and his baby to the table. He takes his seat and maneuvers his little girl into a better feeding position. He grabs the bottle and brings it to her tiny mouth, and she latches in easily. 

“We’re getting pretty good at this aren't we, bug?” he whispers to her. Her eyes, big and blue, look up at him then. She uses her whole hand to grab onto one of Louis fingers. It makes him chuckle. “Yeah, little girl, we’re a good team, you and me.”

He finishes feeding her and helps her burp out any excess air before bringing her back to her room and placing her back in her crib. She snuffles briefly, small lips puffing out with her breaths, and then falls asleep. Louis takes a moment to admire her from where he stands over her sleeping form. He brushes his fingertips against her soft pudgy cheek, through the downy bits of hair on her head. That’s where Harry finds him. 

Harry comes up to Louis and softly kisses his shoulder. “Come back to bed, sweetheart. She’ll be ok here.”

“I know, H. I just...can you believe she's ours? We've tried for so long, we've wanted her for so many years and now she's here. Sometimes I can't believe she's real.”

“Yeah, baby, I know. We've wanted her since we were basically babies ourselves. And I know it took us longer than we'd hoped, but she's here now. And we should let her sleep. Come back to bed with me. Let's get a couple good hours in while we can.” Harry guides Louis back to their bedroom. Louis shucks his joggers and crawls in behind his husband, wrapping him in his arms, placing a kiss behind his ear. 

“Hey, Harry?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, babe?” Harry replies. 

“Thank you. For sticking with me through all the shit. For believing in our dream. Thank you for helping me believe it was possible.”

“Always, Lou. Love you forever. Now go to sleep. She’ll be awake again soon.” Harry drifts off easily then. Louis takes a moment longer to thank whatever cosmic force gave him this life and curls tighter around his love, and slips into dreamless sleep. 

**VIII.**

“Kiddos! Rise and shine! We've got a big day ahead of us! Let's go let's go let's go!” Harry rallies the troops for their weekly Saturday pancake breakfast. Louis makes their tea and starts on the bacon. 

“Everybody needs to have their hair combed and teeth brushed and be out at the dining table in 20 minutes! If you are not at the dining table in 20 minutes, Dad and I will be forced to send the tickle monster after you! And the tickle monster is veeeeery, veeeeereery tickle hungry this morning!” A few squeals and giggles come from upstairs as Harry chases the kids around the hallway. He comes down then, alone, and bumps hips with Louis, stealing a quick peck from his lips before he sets about whisking up the pancake batter.

“Morning, baby. How're the monsters?” Louis asks.

Harry takes a sip from his tea before responding. “They're fine. Alice might hit her snooze a couple more times before coming down, but the little ones are definitely up and at ‘em.” 

He’s only just finished pulling off the first batch of cakes when two sets of feet thunder down the stairs. 

“Morning Daddy, morning Pa! Mmmm smells yummy!” says their second daughter, Anna. She walks around the counter and hugs her dads around the waist before she reaches into the kids’ drawer and grabs herself a cup. 

“Anna can I have a cup too, please?” asks their youngest, Robert. He's just turned five and thankfully only half of the handful that his sisters were at that age. 

“Sure thing, Robbie,” Anna replies. “Do you want juice or milk?”

“Milk, please.”

“Daddy, can you please get the milk out of the fridge for me and Robbie?” 

“Yeah baby, here you go. Pour slow, ok, that's a newer bottle and it can come out fast.”

Harry finishes frying off the batter and Louis plates the bacon just as their eldest, Alice, finally appears at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Well look who finally came to join us! Grab a seat, Al, what would you like to drink?” Louis asks.

“Ugh. Tea. Please. And strong.”

Louis laughs. There's no chance in hell she would like the tea if he actually made it strong. “Coming right up. Long night last night?” He pours a quarter cup of milk into the mug before adding the boiling water and tea bag. 

“Yeah I guess. I don't know, dad. Can we talk about it later?” Alice gives him a look and he knows it means she doesn't want to talk about it around her siblings, and maybe not around her Papa either. He and Alice have always had a special bond that he treasures and he wants to keep that trust she has in him. 

“Sure, babe. We can talk later.” He brings her her tea and kisses her head. “Alright everyone, dig in!” 

The family passes around the pancakes and bacon. Harry helps Robert cut his into smaller portions. Anna pours far too much syrup onto her stack. Alice sips her tea and dips her bacon into the leftover sugary sludge on her plate. Louis takes a look around the table and thinks back to a time when it was just he and Harry sharing meals here. When Harry would fry him an egg on toast every morning and they'd share the paper and each other. He thinks of all the laughter, of the heartache, of the love and care shared here. Louis reaches over and squeezes Harry's hand then. Harry turns to him, smiling, and squeezes right back. He knows. He loves this life they've built from the dining table. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading if you've gotten this far. please leave a comment or kudos. you can find me on tumblr @ [ bluielouie ](http://bluielouie.tumblr.com) . come say hello :)


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